


Dom's Big Night

by Sinful Words (MontanaHarper)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-24
Updated: 2004-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Sinful%20Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Which young male star of a successful epic movie needs to be careful about making out with men in hotel elevators? The prying security guards at said hotel like keeping tapes of these encounters in case they ever get fired." —gawker.com blind item from March 2, 2004</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dom's Big Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a recent blind item (quoted in the summary) and the statement Ian made immediately after the Oscars, which is the first line of dialogue in the story.

**Dom**

"I think it's finally Dom's big night," Ian says. The other Hobbits laugh and Dom blushes and laughs.

Later he offers to see Ian to his hotel, planning to meet up with Elijah and head for the fans' post-Oscar party afterward.

As they cross the hotel lobby, Ian is still giving him looks—something akin to speculation with a bit of lust thrown in for good measure—but Dom cheerfully ignores everything except the small-talk he's been making since they left the Kodak Theatre in an extravagant black limousine.

The lift doors open and Dom gestures for Ian to go first, waiting until the doors are firmly closed before moving to pin him in one corner, purposefully pressing his body up against Ian's.

"My big night, yeah?" he asks against Ian's lips, surprised that the shameless old flirt hasn't pushed him away yet, hasn't gently yet firmly removed Dom's hands from Ian's arse (or from the ends of Dom's arms, for that matter). Surprised that Ian is returning the kiss with an unexpected intensity.

When Dom finally feels the long-overdue press of Ian's hands against his shoulders, he surrenders and begins to back away, only to be stopped by strong fingers wrapping around his biceps before he can take more than one step.

"I was mistaken, Dom," Ian says, and as the lift doors open behind him, Dom braces himself for the apology he doesn't really want. Instead, he's surprised to hear Ian continue, "Perhaps this is _my_ big night."

Dom grins at that, following Ian off the lift and down the hotel corridor. Elijah will just have to wait for him.

~ * ~ * ~

**Ian**

The statement itself really isn't too terribly out of the ordinary for Ian, though he doesn't often flirt quite so wantonly with the straight boys in such a public venue. Perhaps the lapse can be passed off as a side effect of the evening's excitement.

He fully expects some form of retaliation from Dom for the embarrassment he's caused, so he's more than a bit surprised—and appropriately cautious—when his announcement that he wishes to make an early night of it elicits an offer of an escort to his hotel from Dom.

Throughout the short limousine ride, Ian watches for any sign of an ulterior motive, but Dom seems his usual energetic self, randomly pressing the controls on the stereo console, pouring himself and Ian each a glass of single malt from the mini-bar, opening the sunroof and poking his head out to shout appalling pick-up lines at women as they pass.

More than once Ian finds himself laughing at Dom's antics, unable to resist his particular brand of charm.

It's this weakness that proves to be his downfall in the hotel lift. In the first instant after Dom presses against him and begins his quite thorough ravishment of Ian's mouth, Ian's first thought is that this is Dom's revenge for Ian's earlier comment. His instinct is to reject Dom before the situation becomes too terribly embarrassing for either of them, but before he can turn thought to action, he realises he can feel ample evidence of Dom's sincerity pressing insistently against his thigh.

There's still the possibility that Dom is messing about with him, but Ian finds he'd much prefer to take Dom's actions at face value. Not to mention that the kiss has gone on far too long and too intensely for either of them to comfortably pass it off as a joke.

The lift chimes as it reaches his floor and Ian reluctantly pushes Dom away, years of habitual circumspection coming to the fore. Dom tenses under his hands, the smouldering, predatory look disappearing, and Ian realises his gesture was misinterpreted as rejection.

Holding Dom's arms to ensure he doesn't hare off the moment the lift doors open, Ian does the only thing he can think of at the moment: he revises his earlier statement. "I was mistaken, Dom. Perhaps this is _my_ big night," he says, and is pleased to see Dom's smile return.

~ * ~ * ~

**Melanie and Laurel**

It's been a long and boring fucking shift, and Melanie's attention has drifted more than once in the past few minutes, but movement on the lobby monitor draws her attention and when she sees who it is she keeps watching. The presence of some of the _Lord of the Rings_ cast at the hotel is the only exciting thing that's happened lately, and this is the first time she's been lucky enough to be working when there's any significant coming or going.

The figures—Ian McKellen is instantly recognizable even on the blurry black-and-white monitor, and the other looks to be Dominic Monaghan—make their way across the lobby and stand, waiting for the elevator. Not for the first time, Melanie wishes the hotel's crappy security system were wired for sound, because she'd really fucking love to hear what they're talking about.

"Laurel," she says, not taking her eyes off the screen. "You'll never fucking guess who's just walked in." Laurel makes a noncommittal noise that Melanie decides to take as fervent interest. She continues, "Ian McKellen and Dominic fucking Monaghan, from _The Lord of the Rings_."

Laurel makes another noncommittal noise.

The elevator doors open and the pair steps in, meaning that Melanie has to switch the fucking camera feed to her monitor mechanically if she wants to follow their progress. She pushes the appropriate buttons, because after all, this is the most exciting thing to happen at the fucking hotel all week.

Until the elevator doors close, and then _this_ is the most exciting thing to happen at the fucking hotel all month, or possibly all fucking year, because Monaghan has got McKellen in a corner of the elevator and it looks like they're kissing!

"Laurel. Fuck! Laurel!" she says urgently, reaching behind herself to grab hold of whatever part of Laurel's clothing she can find and tug on it. "You've _got_ to see this! Oh. My. Fucking. God. They're fucking _kissing_ , Laurel!"

And "kissing" is apparently the magic word, because Laurel appears at her shoulder. "You're joking," Laurel says, peering into the monitor, her red and black spiked hair throwing odd shadows onto it.

Melanie grabs Laurel by the belt and hauls her back and down onto her lap so she's no longer obscuring the view, but she doesn't bother to answer because it's all too obvious that she's not fucking joking as the two men press closer together. Monaghan—obviously the aggressor—has his hands on McKellen's ass, and is it even legal to grope someone so distinguished in such a...gropy...way? Not that McKellen seems to be minding much.

"Ooooh!" Laurel says, one hand to her mouth, covering a delighted grin. "That is _so cute_!"

Then the two men have stopped kissing and are an almost respectable distance apart, still touching and still talking and why the fuck doesn't the fucking security system have fucking _sound_!

It looks like it's going well, though, because Monaghan grins and they get off the elevator together. Pressing buttons, Melanie switches camera feeds to follow them down the hallway and up to the door of one of the suites. And of course there are no fucking cameras in the rooms, damn them all to hell.

She says as much aloud as she rummages in the box under the desk for a blank tape. "Fucking security system. Fucking lack of sound. Fucking lack of cameras in the rooms," she continues, getting so into it that she almost rejects a blank tape by mistake. "Fucking hotel owners, wanting to give the fucking guests their fucking privacy."

Laurel nods. "You know what would be nice?" she says as Melanie ejects the night's tape and puts the blank in its place. "If they all caught on fire. Make me a copy of that?"


End file.
